Professor Layton and the Case of LIVE
by Seventh Sunset
Summary: A mysterious killer is roaming the streets of London, and the Professor is asked to help catch her. After taking the case, he realizes he isn't dealing with an ordinary criminal. Now engaged in a dangerous game of cat and mouse, Layton must find the truth behind LIVE before it's too late. Because if he loses this game, he could lose everything. Special OC from DragonsAreFriends1.
1. Prologue: Killer in the Night

**_A/N: I know I'm not the first to post a Layton mystery, but I might as well give it a go! _****_Enjoy._**

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**May 13, 1962 2:37 A.M.**

The sky was pitch black, the stars spread across its face like billions of eyes gazing upon the sleeping town below. All seemed quiet, calm and peaceful, just like any early London morning. But looks, as any wise grandparent may tell you, can be deceiving. Actions speak louder than words, and some actions are so horrid, that no eyes, even those of thestars, should ever have to behold them.

In a dark alleyway in a particularly empty part of town, a figure stood leaning against a wall, waiting just as a predator may wait for its prey. It was a woman, very tall and lean, dressed in black pants, shoes, and a black hooded-sweatshirt. At first glance, she seemed to be alone on the deserted road. But close by, a man stood.

The man was thirty-eight year old Abraham Hayberg, a psychology teacher at Gressenheller University, married to Eleanor McGold and father to twin sisters Rachel and Rosemary Hayberg. Now, you may think it was a coincidence that the two strangers were on the same street at the same time, but in reality, the female in the alley had followed Abraham out onto the early morning streets. Truth be told, she had actually been following him for quite awhile. She had found Abraham quite fascinating when she first saw him, and decided to do a bit of research on him—carefully disguised as she gathered the information, of course. What she found, however, caused her to become quite jealous of the man, and she began to hate him. Now, she decided, was the perfect time to confront him on this hatred of hers, once and for all.

Clearing her throat and pulling up her hood on her headas to shadow her face; she stepped out from the alley and walked toward where Abraham was smoking a cigar.

"Good evening, sir!" she called out cheerily. "Or should I say, 'Good morning'? With the sky this black, I haven't got the foggiest idea on the time."

Abraham turned and observed the strange figure walking towards him. She seemed a bit sketchy, with her hood hiding her face and clad all in black, but nevertheless he glanced at his watch and said to the woman, who was now standing next to him, "According to my watch it's about 2:37 in the morning."

The woman gasped, "My! I didn't realize I had been out so long. I had a few things on my mind, so I decided to go out and walk for a few minutes, but I guess minutes turn into hours pretty quick, huh?"

Shaking her head she reached into her pants pocket and produced a small book of matches and a clove cigarette. "Mind if I join you, sir?"

Abraham raised an eyebrow, "Well now, smoking is more of a man's habit, wouldn't you say, ma'am?"

"Ha! I don't follow stereotypes like that, my good man. I do whatever pleases me, and that's that."

He nodded. _I guess that's a fair reason, _he thought as he took another drag from his cigar. The faint smell of cloves and tobacco tickled his nose as the stranger's smoke wafted from her open lips and into the cool early-morning breeze. There was a comfortable silence as they continued to smoke, and when they were both done, the woman tossed her cigarette on the ground and used her shoe to squash it flat. Abraham, who was not fond of littering, pinched the cigar to put it out, then tucked it in his coat pocket so he could throw it away when he got home.

"Now, sir," the woman said, and Abraham looked at her. "I'm quite a regular out on the streets at night, probably because I'm what people might call an insomniac." She shrugged briefly and continued, "But as often as I've been out here, I don't ever remember seeing you."

He chuckled, "Well, that might be because this isn't what you would call a 'regular routine' for me. I, like you said about yourself earlier, had a few things on my mind. I decided to come outside for a stroll and a smoke, thought it might clear my mind."

The stranger cocked her head towards him, "My, isn't that strange. Two strangers out on the street at the same time for the same reason."

"Yes, quite the coincidence, eh?" chuckled Abraham.

"Not quite," was the stranger's reply, but before he could ask what she meant, he was caught with a question: "So, my good man, what was on you're mind tonight?"

"Well, erm," he began, feeling uncomfortable with the stranger's slightly personal question. Nevertheless, he decided to ignore his suspicions and answered, "Well… you see, for the past few weeks I've felt a bit, well…"

"Watched?" she offered.

"Oh, well, yes." Abraham nodded. "Watched and a bit insecure. I don't know why, but I feel like I can't get a moment of privacy no matter where I go. I've spoken to a few people about this, but I fear they're beginning to label me insane."

"My word, that _is_ quite a predicament. I certainly couldn't sleep knowing I could have a potential stalker lurking just outside my door… or mere inches away, for that matter."

"Hm?" Abraham was once again confused by the stranger's words. Something about her… was unsettling, and yet, vaguely familiar. He squinted his eyes and peered under her hood ever so slightly. He gasped when he saw her eyes, exactly the same as one of his favorite pupils, one he had spent many after school sessions with. But it couldn't be, this woman standing before him was far too mysterious, _dangerous, _even. "Wh-who are you?" he managed to stutter.

"Shh, shh," she said, putting a finger to his lips. "No need to begin panicking, _Professor Hayberg."_

"Y-You're no student of mine!" he said, stepping back. "So who the hell are you?"

"Let's just say I'm someone who likes equality," the woman said, "and sir, I'm afraid to say you have something that I—along with many others—don't, and to me, that's hardly fair." With that, she reached into her pants pocket and produced a small pistol.

"Now, I think I know what you may be thinking: '_What could I possibly have that this woman wants so badly?' _But it's not just me, sir. Oh no, there's many more people out there who would gladly have what you have, so in reality, I'm fighting for their equality as well. Kind of like a Saint, once you think about it." Her lips curled into a cruel smile. She raised the pistol to his head and watched as Abraham sank down to his knees.

"P-please," he begged, "My…My wife, M-My children…"

"Did you get the chance to say goodbye to them, tell them you loved them and that they meant the world to you?" She watched as he shook his head. "Would you like to say that all now?"

Putting his hands over his heart, he managed to whisper, "I'm sorry, Elle, girls, I l-love you all s-so much..."

_BANG!_

Abraham fell to the ground, arms landing at awkward angles, and his eyes half opened. Blood pooled slowly from the wound in his head. This would be a haunting image for those who found his body in the hours to come. As for the woman…well, killers shouldn't cringe at the site of their own deeds.

Smiling, the woman slipped the gun into her pocket, and kneeling down she said, "So long," into the dead man's ear.

Getting up, she began to walk away. There was still one last order of business she had to take care of.

It took her almost twenty minutes, but she finally arrived at her destination: a block of flats. But she was interested in one flat in particular. Silently, she walked up to the door she wanted to enter and began to pick the lock with one of her hairpins. Mere seconds later, a small _click _signaled her to enter.

Carefully, she opened the front door and crept through the living room. Walking up to a small coffee table, she reached into her sweatshirt and retrieved an envelope marked with the name of the intended recipient and enclosed with a wax seal of an image of a phoenix, the bird of eternal life and her signature. Dropping it onto the table, she smirked and turned and walked away.

She opened the door once more and began to walk out. Before she was completely outside, however, she turned around.

"I expect to be seeing you soon," she whispered over her shoulder, "_Hershel Layton._"

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**_A/N: Dun, Dun, Duuuun…Cliff hanger! What does this killer chick want with the Professor? Haha, hopefully this has piqued your interest, but I won't know unless you review! It helps me know people are enjoying this story and gives me the will to write faster! _**

**_Until next chapter! _**

**_~Lizz_**


	2. The Game Begins

**_A/N: Hello my dear readers! Haha, I am happy to say that the reviews I got have given me the will to write chapter 2 :) Now, just a little info on this chapter: it takes place a day before the events of the Prologue. It's also the chapter two of my very own OC's make their debut in (exciting, I know!) XD_**

**_But enough of my mindless chatter, enjoy! ;3_**

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**May 12, 1962 8:30 A.M**.

Professor Layton sat at his kitchen table, looking out his window into the busyLondonstreets. Even though it was 8:30 on a Saturday morning, the streets were swarmed with people and cars trying to get to whatever destination they were headed for, surrounded by the sound of honking horns, tons of voices either in conversation, yelling, a combination of the two, and shuffling feet.

Sipping his tea, the Professor sighed. What would it be like to have, just once, the absence of all the ruckus?Londonwould be a whole different place entirely, that's what it would be like, he concluded to himself, taking another sip of tea. It was strange how most cities began to get really busy and loud during the nighttime. But in this particular part ofLondon, the exact opposite happened. The streets became silent and tranquil after the sun had set—or at least, that used to be the case…

For, you see,Londonhadn't been so quiet and tranquil these past few nights. For weeks, nighttime had only brought terror and fear. The reason?

A killer was on the loose.

There where rumors on how the mysterious killer operated. Some said she was a master of tight spaces and could hide for days in one's home, spying. Then, when no on was looking, it was just you and her alone in a room… _bam_, you were dead. Others believed her to be a master of disguise who could morph into any object or person she desired. She used this power to manipulate and hypnotize people into killing themselves, thus the fact she was never caught. Still others had even crazier ideas.

The police, however, had no leads, only two pieces of solid evidence: one, the killer was a woman, and two, she went by the name L.I.V.E.

As the Professor went over all this in his head, his young apprentice, Luke Triton, walked into the room, yawning. "Good morning, my boy," the Professor said, nodding at Luke's entrance. "Sleep well?"

Luke sat at the opposite end of the table and gaveLaytona sleepy smile. "G'morning, Professor. Yeah, I slept well." Getting up, he walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Uh, Professor? We need to run to the grocery store later on. We're all out of food."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that Luke. I think the main reason is due to the fact Flora insisted on attempting to make supper last night." Chuckling, he too got up and walked to the cupboard. "Take note, Luke. It's events like Flora's cooking that cause me to stock up on plenty of cereal."

As they both laughed, Flora walked into the room. "Good morning, boys!" she said, quite cheerful for having just woken up. "What're we laughing at?"

Luke andLaytonexchanged glances, "Erm, nothing Flora," Luke said. "The Professor just told me a joke."

Flora nodded, and the Professor asked, "Flora, my dear, what time is it?"

"Hmmm, let's see…" she said, checking the clock on the wall. "Why it's 8:34, Professor."

"Hmmm, then we must make haste. Remi will be here soon and then we're all to head over to Scotland Yard. Inspector Chelmey wanted to ask me something today."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Flora shouted, "I'll get it!"

"No, I wanted to!" Luke cried, and they both made a mad dash for the door.

Chuckling,Laytonheard the door open and Luke say, "No fair, Flora! You pushed me!"

"Kids, kids!" he hearda new voice say, "c'mon, let's play nice. No need to give the Professor a headache this early in the morning." After taking an extra bowl out of the cupboard, the Professor wandered over to where everyone was, and Remi smiled. "Well, speak of the devil!" She walked over and gave the Professor a hug and a friendly peck on the cheek.

"Hello, Remi. We where just about to have breakfast and go over to Scotland Yard," he said, blushing slightly. He was very good friends with Remi, but still, whenever a girl kissed him it made him feel a bit… awkward.

"Hm, sounds good!" she said, winking at him as she bounded over to the kitchen. She reached for the cereal box and helped herself to a generous serving of cereal. "I'm starved!"

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**May 12, 1962 9:15 A.M.**

After they had eaten their breakfast and gotten ready, the Professor, Luke, Remi and Flora headed over to the bus stop. As they waited for the Scotland Yard bus, Luke and Flora quarreled over their morning cereal-eating competition.

"You cheated! There's no way you could've eaten more than me!" Luke protested.

"Ya-huh! There is too a way: I'm a faster eater! You're just mad 'cause you got beaten by a girl!" Flora replied, sticking out her tongue.

"No, you definitely put more cereal into my bowl!" Luke turned to the Professor, "Professor isn't that right? Flora cheated!"

Laytonadjusted his top hat and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Now Luke, it's best we settle this before we reach the Inspector's office. Just remember: a gentleman should never accuse a lady without hard evidence against her. It's not kind."

Luke sighed. "You're right, Professor." Turning to Flora, he said, "I'm sorry."

Remi smiled at him, "It's so sweet how you always listen to your teacher, Luke. But, then again, he is the best of the best, huh?" She smiled at Layton, causing him to blush again.

Luckily the bus pulled up, and they all loaded on and road to Scotland Yard. When they arrived at the building, Barton greeted them at the door and told them to wait for Chelmey in his office. They obliged and sat down.

"So, Professor," Flora said, rocking back and forth in her chair, "why does Inspector Chelmey want you anyway?"

"He wanted to talk to me about an issue inLondon, something that's got them completely baffled, my dear," he replied, looking around the office.

"Well, then they've come to the right place," Luke said, beaming. "No case is too baffling for the great Professor Layton and his apprentice, Luke Triton!"

"Ahem?" Flora and Remi coughedsimultaneously.

"D-did I say that? I meant the great ProfessorLaytonand company!"

The door opened, and Inspector Chelmey, a gruff man with black hair, a large moustache and a tan jacket walked in.

"Oi, you're all here now, eh?" Chelmey grunted as he sat down. "Well thank you all for making it, I suppose."

"'T'was no trouble at all, my good man,"Laytonsaid. "Now, I understand the matter we are about to discuss is quite serious?"

"Mmm," Chelmey said, lacing his fingers together in front of his mouth and nodding. "You see,Layton, as much as it pains me to admit this…we need your help."

"And, for what are my services required?"

"You've heard the news lately, correct?" WhenLaytonnodded the Inspector continued, "Well, this L.I.V.E character seems to be posing more of a problem than we first anticipated. In fact, I think this may be the hardest case we've ever encountered. We need a separate investigation crew to search for possible suspects… and that's where you come in."

The Professor sat for a moment, letting Inspector Chelmey's words sink in. He was asking him to accept a potentially life-threatening case that could very well result in failure, seeing as where the investigation was headed already. But still, he felt somewhat obliged to say yes. After all, this was the first timeLaytondidn't have to push and push and sneak around for Chelmey to finally agree to team up with him.

"Well, this is quite a big offer… Would it just be me, Luke, Flora and Remi or would there be other police officers as well?"

The Inspector chuckled. "Oho! I couldn't let you take all the credit if your crew actually did find the killer, so I've given you the honor of being paired with one of my most promising men."

Just as he finished, the door opened and a young man stepped in. He looked about twenty-sixyears old with tan skin, muscular arms and deep blue eyes that looked both kind and protective at once. "Hello, Inspector Chelmey," he said, and looking at everyone else he said, "Hey, folks. My names Lance McCoult. I'll be working with you on the investigation."

Flora was gawking at the man so intensely that Luke had to cough rather loudly to break her trance. Remi, on the other hand jumped up and said, "Well, this whole ensemble is perfect, is it not? With the Professor as our brains, you as our brawn and me as our transportation, we're practically unstoppable! I'm Remi Altava, by the way." She batted her eyes at Lance, causingLaytonto shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Hey, you forgot us, Remi!" Luke exclaimed, jumping up. "After all, Flora and I are your backup defenses!" Looking at Lance, he smiled, "I'm Luke Triton, by the way."

"And I'm Flora Reinhold!" Flora piped up.

Lance chuckled at all the introductions, and said, "Ah, it's nice to meet you all. And since one introduction hasn't been made, I suppose I am right to assume that you," he turned to the Professor, "are Professor Hershel Layton?"

The Professor nodded. "That I am. I'm thrilled to be working with such an experienced police officer." He smiled and stood to shake Lance's hand.

"Ha, well, I've only been with the Scotland Yard for a few months, but according to Chelmey I'm the best he's got to offer. Now, as much as I'd love to sit and get to know all of you, I'm afraid that will have to wait."

Chelmey cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. "Yes, well," he began, "I've got some business regarding _my _part of the L.I.V.E case to attend to, so I'll have to ask you all to leave. But tomorrow, you are to report bright and early to a different police stationto meet up with Lance's wife, Chelsea, with whom you'll discuss suspects and other matter regarding the case. Now, good day." And with that, he gestured them all to the door.

"So…we're going to meet your wife tomorrow, huh?" Remi asked, a slight disappointment ringing in her voice.

"Yes. Chelsea's something, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to show up as on-time as possible. She can cause an awful fuss over anyone coming even a minute later than they're supposed to!" Chuckling, he shook all of their hands and bid them good day.

After he had left, Layton, Remi and the children headed out the door and back to the bus stop to await the bus home. As they passed by the bench located right outside of Chelmey's office, no one seemed to take notice of the strange woman clad all in black sitting there. She had ear buds with her and a nearly**-**invisible wire running from them to a tiny microphone that had been on the Inspector's desk the whole conversation, undetected by anyone who had been in the room. She turned to watch the small group round the corner, smiling deviously once they disappeared.

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**May 13, 1962 2:43 A.M.**

The Professor's head shot up from his pillow. He could have sworn he'd heard noises outside his room and whispering. Cautiously, he crept out into his living room and peered around; no intruders. He shook his head, dismissing the sounds he had heard as a hallucination caused by nerves. After all, in a few hours he would be meeting with Lance and his wife to start a dangerous case, so it was understandable for him to be a bit anxious.

Yawning, he turned to go back to his bed, when an envelope on the coffee table caught his eye. _That's strange. I'm positive that wasn't there before, _Layton thought to himself as he walked over to the table and inspectedthe envelope. It looked normal enough, with a wax seal bearing an image of a phoenix. He carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The writing inside looked like it had been hastily scrawled and read:

_Hershel Layton,_

_I see you've decided to play detective. Let me give you a bit of advice you can call it your first clue: Don't bother. Many people have played this game, and all have lost. But please, feel free to try and beat me. I welcome all new opponents. The first move is yours._

The Professor read the note, confused by its meaning. Only when he saw the signature did he understand, and it made his heart stop.

_Yours truly, L.I.V.E_

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**_A/N: Okay, I lied about the "two of my very own OC's make their debut in this chapter" bit I wrote in the beginning authors note, but I promise, you'll all meet Chelsea next chapter! But for now, woa, was there some small hinting of remiXlayton in this chapter? And What's up with that letter? I mean, Cliff hanger much? XD_**

**_Hahaha, thanks to anyone who read this chapter for reading, and please, tell me what you think. Loved it? Hated it? Just need something to do to kill a few seconds? Any type of review is welcomed ;3 (Remember: they give me the will to write!)_**

**_Well, I'll see you guys next chapter, bye!_**

**_~Lizz_**


	3. Of Suspects and Strange Notes

_**A/N: Wow, sorry for the slow update people, but I just got bombarded with a ton of stuff, for example:**_

_**I'm entering a writing contest! :D**_

_**I fractured my thumb in a…. let's just say in an "embarrassing" way… :(**_

_**I had a horrible case of writers block. Even though I have the storyline for this fic planned out, I have to think of each chapter ahead of time, and this one was a bit hard to come up with…**_

_**But now it's written, so I hope whoever reads this enjoys! :)**_

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**March 13, 1962 3:02 A.M. **

The Professor stood there, unmoving. Hard as he tried, he couldn't lift a single finger, couldn't throw away the paper in his hand as if it where burning him, couldn't even stagger backwards. All he could move where his eyes, letting them glide across the letter, drinking in every word until it was memorized.

This letter…was from L.I.V.E: the killer he was to investigate…

His first reaction was to worry, not for himself, but for Luke and Flora. They were only _children_, and although they had both been on their share of adventures, this was by far the most dangerous. For one, they didn't even _know _who the killer was, only her name. Not her identity, location, nothing! At least in the past they had gotten some sort of idea from various sources on what they where getting themselves into. In this case, he, Remi and the children had next to no leads.

Also, how on earth did L.I.V.E know where he lived? Now able to move, he set the letter down on the coffee table and went around, looking in the living room and kitchen windows, searching for some sort of hidden camera or a pair of binoculars. When he found nothing, he returned to the table and picked up the letter once more. _You cannot under _any _circumstances show this to Luke or Flora, _a small voice said to him; _it would be dreadful seeing them fret over this. _

_But what if you're simply overreacting_, another voice contradicted, _there's a possibility this is some practical joke being pulled by one of Luke or Flora's friends. _

Layton doubted that any of the children's friends would pull a prank this extreme, but nevertheless he agreed he might be overreacting just a bit. Still, he didn't want to scare the children or Remi, so he silently walked back to his room, opened his nightstand door and slipped the letter inside. He glanced at the clocked, and was shocked to see it was already 3:00 in the morning. In less than four and a half hours, he would have to leave to go to Lance and his wife's house, and from what he remembered, Lance had mentioned the fact that Chelsea hated when guests where even a moment late.

He had to get some sleep, but try as he might, he couldn't seem to settle down. All throughout the night, the letters words rang through his mind, and something about them, Layton realized, was vaguely familiar…

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**March 13, 1962 7:18 A.M.**

"Professor? Professor!"

"Flora, what in the world are you doing?"

"He isn't getting up, and we have to leave in less than twenty minutes!"

"Hm? This isn't like him at all, should I get Remi?"

"Maybe—oh, look! He's finally waking up."

The Professor felt as if he had just drifted off, and for all he remembered, he had. He tried to remember what had kept him up so late, and suddenly, he remembered: _the Letter._

His eyes snapped open, and he saw Flora standing over his bed, and Luke at his door, both with concerned looks on their faces.

"Professor, you had me worried sick!" Flora said with a small sigh of relief, "I never imagined you of all people would sleep in, Remi's already here!"

"Is everything alright in there?" Remi called from the hallway, confirming what Flora had just said.

Layton sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and managed to smile at Flora. "I'm sorry, my dear, I," he chose his next words carefully, "I…was reading some articles involving our case last night, and I stayed up a bit late." It wasn't a _complete _lie.

Luke and Flora exchanged a doubting glance, but nevertheless Luke relied, "its ok, Professor, but you might want to hurry: we don't want to risk arriving late at Lance and Chelsea's house!"

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**March 13, 1962 7:30 A.M.**

After the Professor's mad-dash to get dressed and out of the door, the whole group arrived at Lance and Chelsea's flat without a moment to spare. Luke knocked, and a few seconds later, the door slowly opened.

On the other side was a beautiful woman around the same age as Lance, not as tall and a more delicate build, with light brown hair, slightly pale skin and emerald green eyes. When she saw who had knocked, her face broke into a lovely smile that lit her whole face.

"Lance!" she called, "Your investigation crew's here!"

"They're not my crew, Chelsea," Lance called from the living room, "They're my team."

"Well, either way, they're here!" She called back, and turning back, she said to Layton, Luke, Remi and Flora, "Please, come in!"

As they all filed through the door and into the living room, Lance stood up to greet them. "Great to see you all," he said, giving Layton a firm handshake and Remi a friendly peck on the cheek.

"Yes, it's always nice to have guests that are on time!" Chelsea said, smiling at them before sitting next to her husband.

"We wouldn't dream of being late!" Luke assured her, exchanging a knowing look with Lance.

Chelsea, however, caught it and stood up, hands on hips. "Have you been listening to Mr. Policeman over here?" she rolled her eyes and turned to Luke, "Listen here, young man. Whatever this one," she pointed over her shoulder at Lance, "has said to you, I'm nowhere _near _as uptight as he makes me out to be!"

Lance grabbed Chelsea's hand, "I just like to tease you. Have i ever told you how beautiful you are when you become annoyed, my little Fo-sci?"

"Haha, more than a few times, Lotty," Chelsea replied fondly, and the couple exchanged a kiss. This caused Flora to sigh with longing, Luke to gawk in awe and Layton and Remi to casually look around the room as to not disturb the couple.

Chelsea and Lance, remembering they weren't alone, broke away and blushed violently. "Erm, uh, maybe we should explain our, um, pet names so you guys won't get confused," Chelsea stammered. "Well, I call Lance _Lotty _because, um…well you know the Knights of the Round Table? One of them was Lancelot, so…" she gave an awkward smile to finish up her sentence,

"And, erm…Chelsea here is a Forensic Scientist, so 'Fo-sci' is a, uh, sort of an abbreviation." They exchanged embarrassed glances and looked away.

"Now, you two, there's no shame in being in love," the Professor said reassuringly, and Remi nodded.

"I think all couples should have some sort of pet-names for each other, isn't that right, my dashing puzzleteer?" She said, nudging Layton. Now it was _his _turn to blush: was Remi implying that they were…a couple?

For a minute, both children and adults where quiet. Layton's mind was turning: he and Remi...where only friends! They'd been so for quite a long time, but sometimes, the Professor could indeed see him and Remi as a couple together. But still...

Just then, Lance clapped his hands, inturrupting Layton's thoughts."Well! No use wasting time, we have some suspects to discuss!"

Everyone nodded, and with that, they all headed downstairs.

* * *

**March 13, 1962 7:53 A.M.**

"Now, Chelsea," Remi said once they where downstairs. The couple's basement had been made into a makeshift detective's office, complete with rows of filing cabinets and a big map of London with dozens of red flags and such mounted on the wall. "Lance said you where a forensic scientist before?"

Chelsea nodded as she led them to a wall with about a dozen photos of different woman, "Yes, but I became tired of that whole field. Now I focus mainly on suspects and even do a bit of detective work if need be."

Flora gave Chelsea an admiring look, "Wow, that all seems so incredible!"

Chelsea shrugged, "Eh, it's got some thrills."

"Now," Lance said, bringing the groups attention to him, "Inspector Chelmey has taken up the task of finding suspects and giving them to us, but is also working on other things he calls 'classified.' These pictures here represent all the suspects he has found so far. Our job is basic, nothing insanely dangerous: track these people down, talk to their neighbors, follow them for a bit and see if they're activities are suspicious in anyway. If they are, we immediately take them in and Chelmey will interrogate them. I know, it sounds as if the Inspector has the best jobs, but our task is important too."

Layton nodded, looking at all of the faces on the wall, wondering which one, if any, had sent him the letter. Suddenly, a question came into his mind and he turned to Lance, "If we find any…_evidence_, should we give it to the Inspector or keep it?"

Lance looked at Chelsea, who answered, "You should keep it. When we do indeed find the suspect, we will use all evidence we have in their court trial."

Layton nodded again, relieved by this answer. He didn't feel comfortable showing anyone else the letter he had received _quite _yet.

They talked for awhile longer about each suspect (mostly basic information like name, age, job descriptions and location), then decided to meet near the Thames river in an hour to start the first investigations.

As Layton, Remi and the kids walked to the bus stop, something caught his eye: A girl. It didn't seem like a big deal, but something about this girl was…odd. For one, she seemed almost terrified of being seen in public, due to the fact the hood of her baggy sweatshirt was pulled well over her head and she was dashing through the crowd without bothering to check where she was going. To Layton, this indicated the girl was either running from someone, or rather, _something_, and to him that was quite suspicious.

Turning to his companions, he said, "You all can go to the bus stop without me. I think I'll walk home."

"Are you sure, Professor?" Flora asked.

"Yes, I'll be fine, my dear." He replied, giving her, Remi and Luke a reassuring smile. With that, they went their separate ways, promising to meet at Layton's flat in about ten minutes. Turning his back to them, Layton looked around, but was disappointed to find the girl nowhere in sight. He walked toward an alley and peered into it: nothing. Only trashcans and such.

He was about to dismiss the girl as a simple hallucination caused by lack of sleep, when a slip of paper on the ground caught his eye.

Curiously, he walked over and picked up the strange note. It was crumpled, with a faded name on the cover…so faded in fact, it was almost impossible to read:

_Tr n y_

When he opened it up, the contents of the note whre just as confusing as the faded name:

_My dear, please make sure the task on this note is accomplished. I'm counting on you._

_FSIWNEDALKANYETSOSN._

This jumble of letters were quite peculiar. Layton decided to pocket it for later. And as for the girl…he might just have to conduct his own investigation.

These thoughts in mind, he began to walk back to his flat, unaware of what he had truly just picked up…or who exactly he was planning to investigate.

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_**A/N: I might have to revise this chapter later on, but I hope whoever reads this enjoys! Who was that strange girl Layton saw? And who can guess the hidden message in the note? If anyone guesses correctly, they get a special prize! :D**_

_**Remember, reviews and feedback help my will to write and are greatly appreciated!**_

_**See ya next chapter!**_

_**~rAwxdiNo3 (Lizz)**_


	4. Injuries and Explinations

_**A/N: Hello all :)**_

_**Chapter 4 is finally up, and it's rather short. This time, the chapter's from the point of view of the mysterious girl Layton saw running through the crowd…**_

**March 13, 1962 8:15 A.M. **

The girl was stopped just outside the door to her flat, doubled over, gasping for breath. She had just run (non-stop) from the center of town to the flat, which were about 2 ½ miles from each other. She had gone to town for two different reasons: to complete a task and to do something she herself wanted to do… during this process, however, she had gotten a little banged up…

Once her breathing had slowed to a small pant, she stood up, causing the black hood from her sweatshirt to fall of her head and let her long, brown hair fall over her shoulders and down her back. She reached into her pocket, took her key and opened the door, rushing to the bathroom as soon as she got inside the flat.

She brushed her bangs back and sighed: sure enough, there was a fairly big cut on her forehead that was still bleeding just a bit. She had been helping in a local soup kitchen when two men began to fight. The girl had rushed to stop them, and in the process, one of the fighting men had whacked her with the edge of a spoon handle, causing the cut to appear. The girl knew she had to find some way to hide the cut before her mistress came home. She hated it when the girl tried to help other people, said it was just a waste of time and energy that should be saved for more important things. But the girl couldn't help it, she adored being charitable and giving to the community, it was part of her nature.

Suddenly, she heard the door creak open and a voice call, "Dear, are you home?"

"Yes! I'll be right out!" the girl called, grabbing a towel, dipping it in the water and scrubbing at the wound until the blood was washed away. Then she re-adjusted her bangs over the cut and stepped out of the bathroom. "Hello!" she said, smiling as if nothing were wrong.

"Hello, my dear, home so soon? You finished that task I gave you quickly!"

"Yes, I was clutching the note you gave me hard enough for some of the ink to fade off the paper and onto my hand, but that will just confuse him even more, isn't that correct Mrs—"

"Darling, please," the woman said to the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder, "You've lived with me for 3 years already, don't you think it's time for you to call me 'mother'?"

"O-of course, if that's what you want me to call you Mrs—I mean, _mother_."

"Good, now we just sit back, relax, and wait for Layton to pick up the note and ponder it a bit."

"But, um, mother…isn't the hidden message a bit, _obvious_?"

"Yes, dear, good observation," the woman said, brushing under the girls chin, "But you see, although he doesn't show it, Layton's mind is reeling inside."

"What does that have to do with the note?"

"It has everything to do with the note! You see, the first letter I sent him started to get the gears in his head turning, and seeing all the suspect pictures, which I assume Layton's already done, probably made them turn even more, and finding a mysterious note dropped by a mysterious girl was enough to send them into overdrive. That's what I love about the human mind: small things like letters and pictures-no matter how un-threatening they seem- can be enough to send a person over the edge. Now, with his brain in a slight panic-mode, Hershel Layton will try every possible method to find the hidden message in the note while ignoring the obvious solution I've placed right in front of his eyes."

"I see…very clever, mother!" the girl nodded approvingly, her chocolate brown eyes shining with admiration towards the woman.

"Thank you my dear, but it's simply part of the plan. I'm counting on Layton to be one of the most fun opponents I've had in a while. I do love seeing such kindly gentleman like him snap when push comes to shove, and when he does…well, then he's _mine_."

With that she got up and began to walk out, but before she left, she turned towards the girl, "My dear, why don't I cover that cut for you?"

"But, how did you see it?"

"Ohoho, that's a secret I won't be sharing, I'm afraid. All I can tell you, darling, is that your mother knows best, whether knowing best applies to healing wounds or eliminating certain people to make a better tomorrow." And with that, the woman and the girl walked to the bathroom together, leaving all their talk about Layton behind.

_**A/N: what does this woman have against Layton, and who's the girl she's using to do all her evil chores? I guess you'll just have to stick around to find out ;D**_

_**See you guys next chapter, goodbye!**_

_**~rAwrXdiNo3 (Lizz)**_


	5. Within the Hour

**Hey everyone, I've finally found time to write the next chapter! I've been busy with end-of-the-school-year activities, and my internet has been uncooperative, but I'm finally back! Hope you enjoy chapter 5! **

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**March 13, 1962 8: 15 A.M.**

Lance and Chelsea had been quiet ever since their guests had left, sitting in their living room chairs, staring at the television that hadn't been turned on. Finally, Chelsea broke the silence. "Dear... is there a reason you didn't want to start right away, or did you just want to watch a blank TV screen for the next hour?"

Lance, who had been thinking, looked at the dark screen. "Oh," he muttered, turning the TV on. For a moment, he and Chelsea both stared at the commercial for toothpaste, not really taking it in. Lance sighed and clicked the "off" button on the remote, watching the smiling face of the woman who had been advertising the toothpaste disappear, wishing he could do the same. "Well, Chelsea... I guess I wanted to be alone for a bit. Besides, I needed to talk to you privately."

"What's so important about this information that you have to hide it from your team?" Chelsea asked, lifting her eyebrow.

"It's not like I _want _to keep this from them, it's just that it would make things more complicated, and possibly make them think badly of me."

"What do you mean, Lance? It's not..."

"The letters from that woman? I'm afraid it is," Lance shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, "If they knew the only reason I took up this case was because she made me, and not only because Inspector Chelmey asked me, I don't know what they'd do."

Chelsea got up from her seat and walked behind Lance's, rubbing her husband's shoulders. "I don't know why she singled you out of the whole Scotland Yard. There's plenty of other people working on the same case you are."

"Maybe she wanted me because I have less to lose. Most of the other men have full families, I mean, Charles Bolver has 6 children! But this letter was different than the rest. The first few just instructed me to accept the case, request to Chelmey that we recruit Layton, and leave the dirty work up to her. But this one…here, read it for yourself," Lance left the room, and a few seconds later returned with the newest letter from the mysterious sender.

Chelsea slipped the note out of the envelope and read it:

_Dear Lance,_

_My, my, my, you're quite an obedient man aren't you? That means I can trust you with this next task. I already have my beloved apprentice helping me, but she's a bit too young and frail to help me with major tasks. I need more than one person to help me deal with Layton. _

_My apprentice has already dropped a note for him, one that will confuse him enough to help her figure out his weak spot. Once we figure this out, I'll need you to attack him where it'll hurt the most. As for me, I've set my sight on a new victim, so while I dispose of him, you two will have to help me with Layton. Besides, it touches my heart to know I have such loyal helpers Just remember the consequences if you fail to complete this request, Lance._

_Yours truly,_

_L.I.V.E_

Chelsea looked up, "So now she's personally asking you to help attack Layton?"

Lance nodded, "Yes."

"Are you going to help? It's bad enough she threatened you into getting Layton put on the case, but asking you to possibly physically or mentally hurt him? That's just low."

"What other choice do I have?"

"Lotty," Chelsea said, going up to lance, placing the envelope into his hand and kissing his cheek, "You always have two choices: to be scared and comply with a demand, or be strong and ignore it, even though the consequence may be severe. What do you think the right choice is?"

Lance thought for a moment, letting his wife's words sink in. He then took the envelope and crumpled it up, tossing it into a nearby wastebasket. "There," he said, feeling a strong weight lift off his shoulders, "That's my answer. Now all I have to do is brace myself for what L.I.V.E will do when she figures it out." With that, he went into his room to change into his uniform. He had half and hour left until it was time to meet up with Layton and his crew at the Thames.

* * *

**March 13, 1962 8:32 A.M.**

Why was this puzzle so difficult? Layton had been staring at the note for who _knows_ how long, and still the hidden message was a complete mystery to him. He was convinced there was hidden message…after all, the girl hadn't dropped it for no reason, had she? Then again, she could have simply lost her grip and had been to busy running to realize she had lost the note…

Layton shook his head and re-focused on the paper. Was the food code for something, like and alchemy recipe? Or perhaps they spelled something when read backwards...Was he simply over thinking?

Sighing, he pushed the paper away, and rubbed his temples to try and clear his mind. He'd have to look at the puzzle later, due to the fact there were only about 30 more minutes left until he, Remi and the children had to go to the Thames and meet up with Lance and Chelsea.

"What's this paper you've been staring at for the past half hour?" a voice asked, and before Layton could answer, Remi's hand reached down and plucked the note off the table he was sitting at.

"Remi!" Layton yelped, just as she gave him a puzzled look, "Really, Hershel? A _grocery list_? This is what's so intriguing?" He snatched the paper out of her hand before she could read who the sender was. He wasn't quite sure he should trust even Remi with the fact London's most wanted killer had been casually sending him notes. "Oh, a bit frazzled, are we?" Remi smirked, "honestly, _what _has gotten into you? First you oversleep, then you get all touchy over your shopping list."

"It's...I'm tired, Remi, sorry If I've been a bit more anxious then usual."

"Hershel Layton, I've known you for how many years, and you think you can start hiding things from me?" She pulled up a chair and sat on the other end of the table, "Now, what's eating you? I promise if it's something Luke and Flora would be affected by, I won't scare them."

She could just read him like a book, couldn't she? "Well, you see… I don't exactly know how _you'll _react either. The whole situations—"

"Complicated? Please, Hershel, I've heard better excuses from Luke's hamster! Does it have anything to do with the case we're working on, perhaps?"

He nodded, adjusted his top hat, and sighed. "I've been getting letters from L.I.V.E."

Remi stared at him for a moment, no emotion showing on her face. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"Would I kid about something so serious, something that could not only put us, but Lance, Chelsea and the children in danger as well?"

"Always thinking of others, aren't you?" Remi smiled, and then furrowed her brow, "But why is this happening? What could you possibly have that L.I.V.E wants?"

Layton shook his head, "I don't think it's what I have. It's more like the fact I'm working on her case that's sparked this sudden interest, or maybe she's been spying on me for months and has decided to notify me now?"

"Perhaps she has, perhaps she hasn't, but you do realize that this has made the case more dangerous for you?"

"Not just me, but everyone I'm now working with. What if she decides to hurt the children or…" He stopped himself, not just because of this gruesome thought, but because he had been about to say: _What if she decides to take you away?_ That would have been embarrassing… maybe even misleading. But He'd deal with his feeling later on.

"Well, we just will have to find her and stop her before she stops us, won't we? Or you can drop the case completely, I'm sure I could make the children understand without giving them the real reason," Remi said, winking at the Professor as she stood up and pushed in her chair. "Remember, Hershel, you always have at least two options: to risk everything to stop a threat, or to protect those closest to you from said threat, without getting too involved. Think about it, I'm sure you'll make the right decision." She walked away, and just before leaving the room, she called over her shoulder, "By the way, we only have ten minutes left, so I'd choose quickly if I were you."

Layton let her words sink in, then looked again at the note. Suddenly, he thought of a simple solution, one that he'd used himself as a child when he and his friends sent secret notes to eachother: the skip letter method. He quickly grabbed a pen and paper, copied down the jumbled letters from the note, and began to read every other letter in the message until he had uncovered it's meaning: _Find Layton's Weakness. _To his surprise, however, he wasn't startled by this. "Go ahead, L.I.V.E, try to find my weakness. But I'll do everything in my power to stop you before you get the chance." He tipped his top hat, as if accepting a challenge, and walked out of the room, leaving the note lying in the middle of the table.

He had a case to settle. He had people to save. And in less than eight minutes, He'd have some suspects to investigate.

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**Thanks for reading, and remember, Reviews make me happy! (they also give me the will to write and let me know people are enjoying the story ;D)**

**~Lizz**


	6. When Truth Becomes False

_**Hoo boy, I haven't been that great about updates, seeing as this hasn't been updated in….6 months -_-**_

_**Well….think of this as an early Holiday gift, eh? C'mon, it's kinda-sorta-maybe long…okay not really, but I finally updated...probably because I was sick from school today and had time to write. Oh the joys of free time! :D Oh, and I also tweaked chapter 3 and 5, because the puzzle in 3 was just terrible. Check out the new puzzle if you'd like, it still has the same answer :) **_

_**Well, I won't bother you with a long A/N, so without further ado, I present you your early Holiday gift! (a.k.a chapter** **6)**_

_**Wait, I lied, quick thing: This chapter is another one focusing on "the girl" and "mother", who are first seen in Chapter 4. I might write about them every other chapter, but I'm not completly sure yet. But, anywhoo, enjoy!**_

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**March 13, 1962 9:01 A.M.**

The girl lay in her bed, gazing outside her window at the rain that had just begun. She was always amazed at how quickly Mother Nature changed her mind. One minute it could be sunny, and the next, overpowered the sun and stashed it away, making room for their dimness and rain. She didn't mind though… actually, the girl rather liked the rain. The soft pitter patter was quite soothing to her, and it sort of cleansed her mind and made her forget about her problems…namely the big gash that was on her forehead. Although it had been treated and bandaged, it hurt the girls head, but watching the rain helped her forget about the pain a little bit.

As the girl watched the trees being whipped around by the harsh wind that whistled against her window, she heard a knock on her door. Bolting upright and wincing a bit at the pain and dizziness it caused her head, she called, "Come in!"

"Hello, dear, are you feeling any better?"

"Oh, yes! Thank you for cleaning and bandaging my cut, mother, it feels much better!" The girl flashed her best smile and nodded.

"Wonderful," the woman replied, returning the smile and walking over to the girl's bed. Sitting down, she sighed, "Listen, dear, I'm starting to feel ill, and I know you're not in the best state either, but this is an errand that should get done as soon as possible."

Worry flashed across the girl's face, "Oh, no mother! I'm feeling fine now, whatever you need me to do, I'll do it!"

The woman smiled. The girl was always so faithful, so kind to her, always willing to help, no matter what the task. "Well, there's a man that I was going to try and meet with…a bad man, you see," The woman explained, watching the girl's eyes grow wide.

"A…a bad man, mother, you want me to meet up with a bad man?" The girl's voice was almost a whisper. The woman had always told her stories of the "bad men" she met up with and got rid of, all to make the world a better place. She had never seen pictures of these men, but she'd always them to have gangly and grotesque features, and huge hands which they'd use to capture their victims…that is, if they were kidnappers. The sheer thought of them made the girl shudder…then again, mother needed her help. With a sigh and a nod, the girl said, "Alright, I'll do it…what time shall I go out tonight?"

The woman laughed, "Tonight? Oh, no dear, you're to go out now."

"But, mother, its daytime and it—"

"Yes, I realize that," the woman waved her hand dismissively, "But it's quite dark outside, and if you're dressed in all black, it will be harder for people to see you. Besides, not a lot of people will be out and about in this weather."

The girl opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and simply nodded again, "Alright, mother, I'll get dressed."

**March 13, 1962 9:15 A.M.**

The girl walked on the empty streets of London, her black sweatshirt providing a thin barrier between her and the cold rain. Squinting so water wouldn't get into her eyes, the girl turned her head from side to side; looking for the address the woman had given her.

The address belonged to an old, abandoned factory, one of the last places you'd want to be caught in during a storm, as it was probably haunted or rumored to be so. The "bad man" the girl was to meet with sold abandoned lots like this, which is why mother had chose to lure him there. The thought of mother's cleverness made the girl smile, and feel more confident, in a way, knowing an intelligent woman like her was putting her faith in her "daughter". She trudged on.

* * *

**March 13, 1962 9:25 A.M.**

The girl had eventually come across the building, and had rushed inside for shelter. Now that she was out of the rain, and with about five minutes to spare (she just checked her watch) she began to stroll around the large factory, and as she did, she drew out a small slip of paper mother had given her. It had the information on the "bad man" that was coming and what the girl should do once he had come:

_Name: Craig Dole_

_Age: 30_

_Craig is a pudgy, soft-spoken man with glasses and pale skin. Once he arrives, engage him in a conversation about the building (we must humor him with the illusion he's here on a business deal), then, when you feel the time is right, ask him about his worldly values. This will confuse him, but make sure he answers. Once he does, share with him your views, and make sure to include "equality" and/or "fairness", or both. Don't wait too long to go in for the kill, dear. I'm counting on you._

_~Mother. _

_Short and to the point_, the girl thought, repeating one of mother's favorite lines in her head while stashing the note in her pocket. When she placed her hand in it, however, she felt cold metal brush against her skin, and she let go of the note and picket up the metal object instead.

She had forgotten about the pistol mother had given her, and she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. She had never used a pistol before, and knowing that she would have to use it soon scared her a little. She wasn't going to simply use it for target practice or to show off, oh no. She was to use it, as instructed by mother, to end Craig Dole's life. The girl had always thought of killing as a foul flaw in the human race. Killing only showed how people lacked the skills to work things out in a civil manner, yet here she was, about to perform the deed herself. _He's a bad man_ the girl told herself, probably for the thirtieth time that day, but still, a small voice in the back of her head whispered, _but do you know what he's done?_

No, mother had never told her what this man had done that was so horrible, but the girl assumed that it was because mother worried such information would scar her. This made her feel both protected and loved, as well as un-informed.

"Hello?" a voice suddenly echoed through the empty building, "I'm supposed to be meeting someone here."

The girl took a deep breath and walked towards the entrance, "Yes, Mr. Dole?"

"That would be me," the man laughed nervously, becoming clearer the closer the girl got to the factory entrance. He looked exactly as mother had described him, but more drenched, due to the rain that had become a downpour. "I'm here to look at a factory I might want to sell?"

"Ah, yes," The girl nodded, hands reaching towards her head to make sure the hood of her jacket was on, and when she felt that it was, she tugged it so it covered her eyes and shadowed her face. "Well, shall we get started?"

"Oh certainly, Miss…"

"Um, Beauregard. Miss Beauregard," the girl answered, immediately thinking of one of her favorite children's book characters.

Craig's face lit up, "Oh, like that character from _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_, my daughter loves that book!"

"Um, yes," The girl smiled, while in her head, she thought, _mother never mentioned this man having a daughter._ It made her feel uneasy, but nevertheless, she cleared her throat, and began. "Well, this was a coat factory a long time ago—"

"Shoe factory, I thought," Craig interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

The girl tried not to blush. This man couldn't realize that she didn't know anything about their current location. "Um, no, I believe the shoe factory was a few miles down from this one," She said convincingly. Craig cocked his head to one side, then shrugged. She nodded and continued, walking through the empty building, trying to give him a believable commentary on the building. "As you can see, um, it's been abandoned for a while," she indicated up to the roof, which had a few holes and was leaking considerably, "But that's nothing we can't fix. Also, this factory can be turned…into…um…" she wracked her brain for ideas as to what this abandoned lot could become.

"A small motel, maybe," Craig suggested, turning in a circle where he stood, looking around the factory, "Or maybe a shop!"

"Yes, heh, those would be lovely!" She agreed, happy that the man wasn't catching on to her lack of knowledge. She decided she should simply ask him some questions so she could speed up the "disposal", as she had heard mother call it before. "Now, Mr. Dole, you've been doing this a while?"

"Ten years," he replied proudly, "And in that short time, I've sold over a hundred abandoned lots."

The girl gave a low whistle, "That's brilliant! And, well, what are your worldly values, sir?"

"Pardon?" Craig asked, a confused expression occupying his face, "I, um…is that relevant, Mrs. Beauregard?"

"I'm just a bit curios, Mr. Dole; you seem like an interesting man."

"Oh, well thank you, ma'am." He said, looking down modestly, "Hm, I suppose I can't just pick one thing, so I'll just choose the lot and go with world peace."

"Ah, you value world peace, Mr. Dole?" The girl nodded, slipping her hands into her pockets, one empty, the other occupied by the note and the pistol. "That includes things like equality, am I right?"

"Yes, race equality, social equality—"

"Ah, you seem to know a bit about the subject then. But you see, Mr. Dole," The girl began, pacing around the man in a circle, "You have something that countless others have…and something countless others don't have." She smiled, congratulating herself for remembering the line mother had told her to use before she left the house.

"I…don't follow you," Craig said, his voice hinting the slightest note of unease. "Now, Mrs. Beauregard, why don't we get back—"

"Ah, but we're finished, Craig."

"You know my first name—"

"And a few other things," The girl replied, realizing she had just lied. All she actually knew was this man's name and age. She had learned from him that he had a daughter, and probably a wife. She probably sounded cool and menacing to Craig, but she was becoming uncertain of herself as she reached into her pocket and slowly pulled out the pistol.

Even in the dim light, she saw Craig's already pale skin become white. He backed away a few steps. "Wh-who are you, and what do you want?"

"I want equality for others," The girl replied simply, her hand shaking as she lifted up the pistol.

"Y-you're…going to k-kill me?" He stammered, sinking to his knees.

_I have to, _she thought…but did she really? She looked at Craig, who had begun to violently shake, and she could feel the fear radiating off of him. Was…was he really such a "bad man"?

"Craig…how old is she…your daughter?" The girl asked slowly, her voice softening.

"S-seven," Craig stuttered, "and she's my little sunshine. Me and her mother, y-you see…we got…a d-divorce...and I didn't get to s-see my little Ruth…th-that's my girl's name…for almost two years. I j-just got her back…I can't leave her alone."

The girl's eyes grew wide, and she went ice cold. How could she kill this man? How could he have done anything bad, when for the past few years, he had been trying to get back his daughter?

"C-Craig," she said, his stuttering becoming contagious, "Have you ever…done anything bad?"

"Crime wise?"

"Yes."

"N-never," he whispered, "My father did, he…he stole from countless people and was finally caught and arrested w-when I was twelve…I couldn't follow in his f-footsteps…" his voice trailed off, ending in a pleading note.

Had…had mother lied to her? _No, she wouldn't do that_, the girl thought, shaking her head…but what could she say about this? Surely mother hadn't mistaken this man for someone else? She had said he was bad…but would a bad man become so weak? No. She…she couldn't kill him. She couldn't take an innocent man away from his daughter.

She reached up with her free hand and slipped her hood down, revealing her face. Her eyes matched Craig's: Wide and confused. "You're j-just a girl—" Craig began, but she cut him off.

"Go. Don't come back here…and if you're wise, find somewhere safe to go. Please, you'll be safer if you leave London," She said, her voice between her normal volume and a whisper.

"Th-thank you…" Craig said, tears welling up in his eyes. He slowly got up, watched her slip the pistol back in her pocket, then ran. The girl couldn't leave, she felt so numb. So she sat down, put her head in her hands, and let a wave of oncoming dizziness overcome her.

* * *

**May 13, 1962, 10:13 A.M.**

She must have completely spaced out, or just lost track of time, but when the girl checked her watch again, she was shocked to see she had been sitting for almost half-an-hour. Getting up, she took a deep breath, remembering what had just happened. She couldn't choose one emotion to express how she felt, there were so many flowing through her. But, she couldn't pick each one out at the moment, she had to get back to mother…

_Mother._

Tears sprung into her eyes. She had failed mother….no, wait, she hadn't, because mother had lied to her….Craig wasn't a "bad man" like mother said he would be…like the men mother supposedly fought…why would she try and trick the girl into thinking he was?

Shaking her head vigorously, the girl began to walk towards the entrance, but it took only seconds for her to break our into a full sprint, charging out of the entrance, the rain masking the tears on her face.

She couldn't tell mother what had just happened.

She had to let mother believe that she had completed the task, and that she hadn't caught onto her lie.

The girl soon became a blurry figure in the pouring rain. And that's exactly how she felt:

Confused….

Blurry.

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**A/N: Hmm…this was different than I thought it would be…I love surprising myself!**

**Well, I do believe that's all for now, folks! Any thought, comments and/or love letters can be left with my good friend, the review button! He's quite adorable, don't you agree? He loves being poked ^.^**

**Oh, yeah, and he knows where ya'll live. JSYK ;)**

**Until next time, my dear readers!**

**~Lizz**


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